DownBeat October 1999 [antikvár]

With Miles Davis' Kind Of Blue celebrating ils 40th anniversary and recently achie\iiig doubleplatiiiuni sales (2 million units), there's something you should know about the album: It was a fluke. No. I'm not implying that Kind Of Blue is a poor album. Actually, it ranks among the best "things" in the world, right up there with Crime And Punishment, a sunrise in Telluride. Colo., and an afternoon in the bleachers at Wrigley Field {start Coltrane soprano now). And of course, it stands as one of the most perfect examples of recorded music ever. But the album's popularity was still a fluke. All Davis did over two sessions in March and April of 1959 was walk into Columbia's 30th Street Studios in New York with a few rough song "sketches." His intention was not to construct the best-selling jazz album ever when he handed these golden outlines to John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, Bill Evans, Paul Chambers. Jimmy Cobb and Wynton Kelly (on "Freddie Freeloader"). Without rehearsal he recorded "All Blues," "So What," "Blue In Green" and "Freeloader" in one take—needing two takes for "Flamenco Sketches." Davis had been contemplating this recording concept for a while, but he even admitted in his autobiography that although he loved the album. Kind Of Blue missed whal he was really trying to do with the music. So when Kind Of Blue hit the streets on Aug. 17. 1959, it was only another album, albeit one distinctly Milesian. Over the past 40 years it's grown into something beyond Miles the man or musician; ifs even grown beyond the music. Due to some cosmic alignment, it has come to serve as the essential starter for any jazz listener, consistently selling more than 5,0(X) copies a week since Columbia/Ivegacy reissued a remastered version in 1997, leaps and bounds more than any other jazz catalog release. But it was created out of pure spontaneity, not a calculated attempt at commerce. Armstrong, Kllington, Mingus. Monk. Bird or Dizzy didn't create Kind Of Blue. There's absolutely no reason why they couldn't have, but they weren't as lucky. A parallel can be seen in today's jazz business. Nobody can honestly predict when an artist will break. When we ask, "Who's going to be the next great?" we're asking the wrong question. We should ask, "Who's going to be the next lucky so and so?" In this issue's feature "The Vocal Explosion" (see Page 34), label heads Bruce Lundvall and Tommy Lipuma explain how every week they get tapes of artists modeling themselves to be the next Diana KraU or Cassandra Wilson. Sure, imitations can sell albums, and jazz can sound empty without an artist's understanding of the common tradition. But an imitation cannot create the mystique of pure originality—it can be great music, but it's probably destined to wallow in obscurity. But those rare jazz musicians stumble upon a sound larger than a mere mortal. Tliey find their own Kind Of Blue, and create music witii a life of its ovm the lucky ones. So congratulations and happy anniversary Miles. Over the next 40 years, may your work inspire more flukes for our listening pleasure. db E^periev^ce Your ír^ve New UforU of erricVii^g ie^ucf»/-- -- jporfareov + will la-y a ?\recf v-i+ ^ o»» ^our »^ervovj j^ife/-". UW^kJ ^^ * Cowir., (\arij 5 M0re\) "Snappy looking line of jazz albums ' colorful and eye grabbing cover art ^ but what's inside? In this case, there's quite a bit." -LA Times "Colorful packages created to make the culture welcome, and to help those • interested in discovery feel energized ' by jazz, not intimidated by it" -allaboutjazz.com "Excellent compilation series top notch tracks." -The Oregonian " a great introduction for bop neophytes or a pleasant refresher for seasoned old hands " -CM) by jason koransky Octohoi liWO DOVVNütEAl